


Tell Me Something I Don't Already Know

by rosieeexox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Divergent Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, Derek Hale Feels Guilty, End of the World, Factionless (Divergent), Happy Ending, Lumberjack Derek Hale, Minor Character Death, No Smut, Post-Apocalypse, Stiles Stilinski Feels Guilty, War, sheriff and claudia are dead sorry, sorry - Freeform, the whole hale family isn't dead but they're not around, theres also a sad ending tbh, will probably add more - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosieeexox/pseuds/rosieeexox
Summary: The end of the world happened a lot slower than Stiles thought it would. All the books and movies lead him to believe it was going to be zombies or aliens and it would happen too quickly for anyone to do anything about it. In reality, it was slow.Divergent-esque, but not plot-wise.





	1. Just Pretend You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, will probably eventually go back and read this but if you know me, you know I probably won't ;)

The end of the world happened a lot slower than Stiles thought it would. All the books and movies lead him to believe it was going to be zombies or aliens and it would happen too quickly for anyone to do anything about it. In reality, it was slow. 

Slow enough that the government, or what was left of it, had time to sort people into factions. Yes, factions. Like a fucking Veronica Roth novel. It didn’t matter how much money you had, or your social status; it only mattered what skills you had. And Stiles - well. He didn’t really have any. Nothing that was helpful in an apocalypse, anyway. 

He was great at research, but there was no more Internet and people had burned most of the physical copies of  _ anything  _ when the riots started. He was pretty good at building stuff, but not more so than actual engineers. And his final, most potent skill, was never shutting the fuck up. Which wasn’t useful even pre-apocalypse. 

So, as expected, Stiles was faction-less. Thankfully, this wasn’t a death sentence like  _ some _ book series lead him to believe. It just meant that he wasn’t given a place to live, or money to buy things, and henhad to make friends if he wanted somewhere to sleep or something to eat. His inability to keep still or keep quiet really put a damper on that possibility. So thank the Apocalypse Gods for Scott McCall. 

Sure, Scott had been his friend since elementary school, but he was also immediately put into the Warrior faction so Stiles hadn’t seen him in...years? Honestly, he has no concept of time without his cell phone to remind him what day it is. After a significant amount of time cot surfing, he ran into Scott while trying to trade his last pair of shoes for a radio and has been living in Warrior territory ever since.

Overall, post-apocalyptic life isn’t so bad. He’s living with his best friend, and has a boyfriend for the first time in his entire life. Because apparently nobody cares about what a loser you were in high school after the world ends. Lucky him.

James is sweet, and cute, and funny, and doesn’t care that Stiles can’t sit still for more than a minute, or that despite not having read a book in forever, can sill recall the dumbest of facts about the obscurist of things. He’s shorter than Stiles, but not by much. And his tan skin and blonde hair is a stark contrast to Stiles’ dark hair and pale skin. They look good together, if Stiles is being perfectly honest.

“Do you ever think about what our children would look like?” Stiles asks one night.

“Seeing as that’s scientifically impossible, no.”

“Shame the world had to end before science could advance that far.”

“Go to bed, Stiles.” 

And he does, but not before describing in vivid detail what each of their  _ seven  _ children would look like. James listens to him the whole time, though. He smiles and nods along and offers a detail or two when he can get a word in. 

It’s on his and James’ two year anniversary - and yes, he had to start keeping track of days once James made him sleep on the floor for forgetting their 6 month anniversary - that he finally beats James in combat.

“You didn’t let me win as an anniversary present, did you?” Stiles asks, out of breath, still straddling his boyfriend in the grass.

“I wish I could say I did.” James huffs, rolling his body so that Stiles is straddling his hips instead of his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still let you man handle me.” Stiles smirks, pressing a quick kiss to James’ nose before standing and offering the blonde boy his hand. James takes it with an eye roll.

“You probably could’ve made Warrior faction in the first place if you had a little more...focus.” James trails off, noticing that Stiles has already turned his attention to Scott who’s just stepped out of the back door.

Their house isn’t much, honestly. It was built in the early 1900’s, but there’s three floors and just enough bedrooms and it’s perfect for the group of them. Stiles, James, and Scott get the first floor, something about Jackson not wanting to hear Stiles tripping over everything above him at all hours of the night. Jackson, Lydia, and Lydia’s closet occupy the second floor. Stiles still has no idea how she managed to travel with most of her wardrobe before the world went to shit. Probably has something to do with the look in her eye when someone tries to get between her and, well, anything she wants. 

The top floor is reserved for whoever needs it. They’re pretty known for taking in strays for bits and pieces of time. There’s a back entrance, well, exit, so they can leave without the whole awkward goodbye thing. Sometimes they leave a note, sometimes they don’t. Jackson always tries to convince them to take Stiles with them. 

It’s sort of strange that so many of them from high school ended up together. The world started to fall apart their second year of college, Stiles was the only one who stayed in California. And yet, here they all are. In an old house, on some abandoned farm land, training to be literal warriors for God knows what. 

One of the perks of Stiles technically being faction-less is that he can travel without the huge ordeal of traveling papers and orders for leaving “Warrior territory.” Scott, being the most responsible, is usually in charge of going into Builder territory. Stiles joins him, mostly because he can, but also to release the pent up energy he feels when staying in one place for too long.

Builder territory is always exciting to Stiles because there’s so much  _ stuff.  _ They quite literally build anything and everything people need. Weapons, houses, walkie-talkies. You name it, they can build it. And no matter how many times Stiles petitions to join the Builder faction, they always reject him based solely on the fact that he’s technically what the Capital considers 

unstable. But it’s not his fault Adderall didn’t survive the destruction of most of the Earth’s resources. Whatever.

Sometimes while Stiles is wandering around the Builder trade market, he wishes James would come with him. There’s so much stuff and he forgets about half of it on the three hour drive back to their house. James refuses to leave Warrior territory. Something about not wanting his asshole of a father to be able to find him by tracking down any traveling papers with his name on them. It’s a valid reason, but still. Looking at cool stuff isn’t as fun without your boyfriend there to annoy to death about useless facts and stories about the cool stuff he used to have. 

But, because the world is a sick, cruel monster, Stiles is reminded of just how much of a loser he really is. Nevermind the fact that he can  _ almost  _ beat Scott in combat, or is at least 40% muscle compared to the zero percent he was sporting pre-apocalypse. Because while he’s admiring a particularly cool army swiss flashlight invention, sees Derek  _ fucking  _ Hale. 

Because  _ of course _ the highlight of Stiles’ big gay freakout would survive the apocalypse. And  _ of course _ he would be infinitely more hot than the last time Stiles saw him 5 years ago.

Stiles stares at him for a full 5 seconds before he realizes Derek has not spotted him, nor would he probably recognize him. Or care that he’s here. 

Stiles still thinks it’s weird when he sees people he recognizes. He knows where he lives is technically California, but it’s nowhere near where they grew up and state lines kind of don’t exist anymore. That, and nobody else gives a shit about seeing people from their past because, surprise, the apocalypse makes people morbid as shit and not at all nostalgic. Nobody except for Stiles, of course.

Derek does make eye contact with him, though. Only for a brief moment. There’s no spark of recognition in his eyes and there’s definitely no feeling of disappointment in Stiles’ rapidly beating heart. 

Stiles is just about to wander back towards the car to wait for Scott when he sees Derek,  _ again. _

“You following me?” Stiles jokes, because he’s an idiot whose mouth moves without his brain giving it permission.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, sorry.” Stiles stutters, he can feel his face turning red. He hopes Derek will think it’s because of the heat. “I just, uh, saw you earlier. Was making a joke.”

“A joke?”

“Yeah, you know, like those things people used to make back in the day to break the ice?”

“Right.” Derek is looking at him like he’s crazy. He’s not wrong.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m gonna go find my friend.”

“You seem...familiar.”

Stiles stills for a moment. “I guess I might be kind of hard to forget. We went to high school together. Beacon Hills?” He whispers the last part. He knows how touchy most people get when he brings up the past.

Derek’s eyes light up slightly. “Wow, Beacon Hills, yeah. You were a few years below me.”

“Yup.” Stiles pops the “p” too loudly, even for him. 

“Well, it was nice to see a familiar face. I’ll let you get back to your friend.”

“Thanks, yeah. You, too. Always liked seeing your face.” Stiles mentally punches himself in the face.

“That was bold.”

Stiles laughs nervously. “It kind of was, wasn’t it? If I was this bold in high school we could be married right now.” This time Stiles physically punches himself in the face.

Derek chuckles but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t walk away, either.

“You don’t seem like you belong in the Builder faction, no offense.” He says after a few moments.

“No offense taken, I actually don’t belong to any faction.” Stiles has practiced saying that in a way that doesn’t make him sound pitiful.

“I could put in a good word for you over here.” Derek offers, though not very enthusiastically.

“Nah,” Stiles laughs nervously. “They’ve already denied me so many times they’d probably kick you out just for mentioning my name. Besides, I stay with some friends over in the Warrior territory. Been training a bit even though I technically can’t enlist in anything.” 

Stiles doesn’t miss the slight twitch in Derek’s face when he mentions the Warrior faction. Mostly because he’s looking for any sign that Derek wants out of this conversation, but also because he’s talking to  _ Derek Hale  _ and wants to memorize every detail to replay until the day he dies. 

He knows the Warrior faction isn’t most people’s favorite, they’re basically an army and the only ones with access to any sort of real weapons in an already  _ very  _ hostile environment. But something tells him that’s not the reason behind Derek’s reaction. Before he can overthink it too much, Derek is changing the subject.

“Do you remember Erica and Boyd? They live with me. Isaac, too. They were all your year, I think.”

Stiles nods enthusiastically, not wanting to embarrass himself any more than he already has.

Derek continues to talk about Erica, and Boyd, and Isaac. It’s the most animated he’s ever seen him. He thinks he even smiles once when talking about how Erica accidentally built a taser instead of a doorbell and quite literally shocked Isaac the day he arrived to claim their last spare bedroom.

Scott returns eventually, suspiciously right after Derek leaves. Stiles managed not to say anything stupid for the remainder of their conversation. Mainly because he let Derek do most of the talking.

“Dude, where you talking to Derek Hale?”

“Wow, I really wasn’t hallucinating? You saw him, too?”

“Maybe we’re both hallucinating because that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile. Like, ever.”

Wait.

“You  _ knew  _ he was here? For how long? You are aware he is the very man that unknowingly helped me figure out my sexuality?”

“I didn’t know for sure it was him.” Scott says defensively. “He’s not the most approachable guy. And it’s not like I could just go up and ask him. You know how people get.”

Stiles huffs in response.

They’re still talking about it when they return back to the house.

“I just can’t believe you got him to speak at all. He’s usually so stoic.”

“Who is?” James asks, appearing in the living room, grabbing a box from Scott. Oh, right. Stiles feels slightly guilty that he forgot James existed for the last 5 hours. He glides over and plants a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Derek Hale.” Scott answers. Stiles represses a shiver.

“Who?” James asks again, looking at Stiles.

“This dude we went to high school with.”

“Stiles had a crush on him.”

“ _ Scott. _ ” Stiles practically growls.

James doesn’t say anything, so naturally Stiles has to fill the silence. “He single handedly helped every unknowingly gay dude in our high school realize just how gay they really were. I’ll let him know you say thank you.” Stiles beams.

“You’re seeing him again?” James’ voice is forcibly neutral.

“Probably not.” Stiles doesn’t feel a pang of disappointment at the thought. “Just a weird, random run-in.”

“I’m gonna go work out, you coming?” James changes the subject, his bright personality returning.

Stiles nods and follows James outside. 

They practice hand to hand combat and it’s very clear that James is upset. He doesn’t hurt him, obviously, but one slow block and Stiles will probably have a black eye. He dodges when he can, but he’s starting to feel the ache in his shoulders from keeping his arms up to block his face. He waits for a lull to step out of range without getting a face full of fist and turns to look at James with his hands on his hips.

“What?”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you gonna keep trying to punch me into next week?”

James sighs. “It’s stupid.”

“Stupider than that time I brought home a chicken and didn’t know that they play dead and it ran around our house until we were all too exhausted to keep chasing it and then ended up keeping it as a pet until it died of natural causes and then we all cried while eating it?”

James sighs again. “Yes, stupider than that.”

It takes everything in him to keep quiet, prompting James to speak again.

“It’s just. I felt jealous hearing Scott talk about how some hot, stoic dude was smiling at you. And then to find out this guy was part of your sexual awakening and you could possibly run into him again was a lot to process.”

“James…”

“No, I know. The world has literally ended and all I’m worried about is whether or not you still like me.”

“I don’t like you.” Stiles interrupts. James rolls his eyes, knowing what’s coming. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Forever and always?” Stiles prompts.

“You know it.”

“Can we go makeout now or do you still want to fight?”

James smirks and drags him back inside.

As luck would have it, Stiles  _ does  _ run into Derek again. Every week, in fact. 

James had brought up building himself and Stiles their own little house right next door to their current house. Being an actual part of the Warrior faction, it’s basically all paid for under his contract.

James still refuses to travel, so Stiles makes the trips with Scott to pick up the wood, nails, and glass James orders. Derek is there, usually to offer some sort of building advice, which Stiles passes along to James anonymously. It’s not that he’s hiding the fact that he frequently runs into Derek, except that he totally is. They have a weird sort of friendship, and not that it’s worth losing his relationship over, but it’s harmless. If anything, it’s a business relationship. 

Derek is the one who cuts most of the wood because  _ of course  _ he’s essentially the apocalyptic version of a lumberjack; moody and all muscle, a full beard and piercing eyes that are almost hidden behind very large eyebrows that make him look grumpy even when he’s smiling. Which he does quite a bit when Stiles is around.

And yeah, he still finds Derek attractive, he’d be blind if he didn’t. But he loves James and they’re literally building a house together, and Derek is barely his friend so there’s no need to make a big deal out of it. 

“He totally wants to bang you.” Scott says one day. Stiles can barely hear him over the roar of the truck.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Stiles shrugs. His curiosity will not get the better of him. He will not take the bait.

He lasts five minutes.

“Derek Hale does not want to bang me.”

Scott laughs loudly. “He checks you out half of the time we spend over there and the other half he spends actually talking to you. I’ve been picking up lumber orders for almost two years and he’s never spoken to me once. You show up, and suddenly he has vocal chords that work. I’m not joking, David works with him and genuinely thought he was mute.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’m very hard to ignore, Scott.”

“Trust me, I know. This is different.”

Stiles shrugs again, but this time he stays quiet.

“Scott thinks you have a crush on me.”

Derek must be getting used to his outbursts because he doesn’t even flinch anymore when Stiles starts talking significantly louder than necessary.

“He does.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“He called me out on it when I asked him where you were last week. I thought maybe…” He trails off.

“So you know about his crazy theory.” Stiles chuckles. “You need to start talking to more people, dude. Otherwise he’s never gonna let it go. I know I’m awesome and all, but if you don’t make another friend soon, Scott’s gonna start planning our post-apocalypse themed wedding.” Stiles turns around, fully prepared to continue his rant, but Derek is standing very, very close to him. 

He’s slightly taller than Derek, maybe an inch or so, but Derek is wider and Stiles suddenly feels very, very small. His eyes flick up to Derek’s before he can think better of it.

“Stiles.” Derek breathes, they’re so close that he feels his name ghost over his face.

“Oh my God.” Stiles whispers. “You  _ do  _ have a crush on me, don’t you? Holy shit. Scott can never know. He can never know he was right, because the only -”

“Stiles.” Derek says, a little more forcefully. Stiles stops talking, his eyes searching Derek’s. He sees Derek move the slightest bit forward.

“I have a boyfriend.” Stiles’ voice sounds strained, even to his own ears.

“So tell me to stop.” 

It’s agonizingly slow, the way Derek moves towards him. So slow that Stiles has time to think about the effects of what’s happening here. He thinks about James, and their house.

“Stop.” The word is weak as it falls from his mouth. Derek does stop, though. And takes a too-large step backwards. It’s easily 90 degrees outside, but Stiles suddenly feels cold. “I mean,  _ fuck _ , I don’t want you to. I mean, I just, I need to like, figure this out, you know? I don’t know how to process any of this. I didn’t think this was possible. I thought. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek interrupts, taking several more steps back.

“No,  _ I’m  _ sorry. I was flirting with you, and that wasn’t right. I didn’t think you - not that it matters. I shouldn’t have done it.”

They stand there silently for what feels like hours.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice is soft.

“Give me a few days to think, okay?”

“What?”

“About us. Just. Give me a few days to think about it. About what to do. I could break up with James, you know? I could do that and move here and it-”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?” Stiles asks, a little hysterically. He’s panting, half still from being so close to Derek earlier, and half because of an oncoming panic attack. 

“First, take a deep breath.” Derek says, stepping closer again. He places both of his hands on Stiles’ shoulders to ground him. “Just breathe.”

Once his heartbeat returns to normal, Stiles tries again. “What are you asking me, Derek.”

“I don’t know.” Stiles frowns. “Of course I want you to move here. But I don’t want you to uproot your entire life and cut ties with people you’ve known this whole time. I have nothing to lose, Stiles. Nothing except you.”

They talked about it, once. How Derek lost everything. He was forced into Builder territory because of his strength, and the rest of his family, his sisters, his mom, became Harvesters. He hasn’t seen them, doesn’t even know if they’re alive. At least Stiles knew his parents were dead. It happened, thankfully, before the whole world went to shit.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“Stiles. There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you. Not here, not while you’re still technically-” He cuts himself off, a pained expression confirming that he’s already said too much.

“I’ll go home and think about it, okay? I’ll figure it all out and I’ll let you know next week when I come to get the windows, alright?”

Derek nods.

Stiles gets in the truck and drives the three hours back in record time.

The war starts two days later.

Apparently news about the Uprising was purposely kept from reaching the Warrior faction. Nobody is surprised when they’re the first ones to be taken over. They have the weapons and the trained soldiers, it makes sense. Stiles hates it, but it makes sense.

The sun has just barely risen when they’re all ripped from their beds and brought outside. James is clinging to Stiles so tightly, he’s not sure if its out of protection or fear, but Stiles is clinging back just as tight, though his is mostly out of guilt. He was going to break up with James today, and this is his divine intervention. Karma, even. He’s not sure why Fate would hand deliver him Derek Hale, just to kick him in the ass for taking the bait. He barely registers that one of the now-armed Uprisers is speaking to him.

“What?”

“Are you a fucking soldier or not?” The bigger of the three practically spits the question at him.

“Uh, no. I’m not. I mean, I don’t have a-”

“He’s a nobody.” One of the other nameless men says with a laugh. Their red uniforms stand out against the muted colors of early sunlight.

Stiles opens his mouth to defend himself but James digs his nails into his bicep, effectively shutting him up.

“Are the rest of you going to join us?” The smaller, but definitely scarier, Upriser asks. The “or die” is left unsaid.

“Is peacefully surrendering not an option?” Stiles asks stupidly. He earns a laugh, though.

“You’re free to go and survive on your own, we have no interest in untrained bed warmers, and we certainly aren’t going to waste a bullet on you.” The laugh that earns is extremely more concerning.

“I’m not-”

“Of any use to you.” James interrupts. “We tried to train him, but it was hopeless.”

The Uprisers chuckle and instruct Stiles to go collect his things. They give him a piece of bread and some raisins and send him on his way. They do, surprisingly, grant him the small mercy of hugging his friends goodbye.

“Go to the church.” James whispers, so softly Stiles barely catches it.

It’s almost nightfall by the time Stiles reaches the church. It’s part of the Religion territory, where everyone is welcome.It’s the one place you don’t need traveling papers to go to.

The church is pretty full by the time he arrives, clearly some people were able to escape. He finds an unclaimed pew to sleep in and struggles to stay awake once he’s laid down. He tries to recount the drastic turn of events; what it all means, what happens now. Before he can think about it too hard, he’s asleep. 

He wakes up what feels like minutes later to a lot of commotion in the church. He spots Scott, dressed in Uprisers gear, searching frantically through the pews.

“Scott!”

“Stiles, holy shit. Are you okay?”

“Scott, what the fuck. Why are you dressed like that?”

“We had to jump the guys that made themselves welcome in our house. It was Jackson’s idea. We were gonna go straight for the Capital but James said he told you to come where.”

Fuck. “Scott, where is he?”

“He’s fine, Stiles. He’s outside.” Stiles breathes and his chest untightens for the first time in  _ hours.  _ “Lydia sort of had to break her ankle to get out of one of the guys’ grip, Jackson and James carried her most of the way here.”

“What do we do?” Stiles asks, able to think clearly knowing that the people he loves are okay. Well, most of them. He’s suddenly reminded of what happened before the world imploded...again.

“We go to the Capital, figure out what the fuck is happening. Lydia is going to stay here with you-”

“I’m not fucking-”

“Yes you are, Stiles.” James appears. Stiles is so relieved he could cry. Actually, he definitely  _ is  _ crying. “You need to stay here because if you get hurt I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I can take care of myself! I beat you that one time!”

“I let you win and you know it.”

“You are such an asshole.” Stiles laughs tearfully.

“Me, Scott, and Jackson are going to get help; see who else made it out. We’ll come get you as soon as it’s safe.”

“H-how do you know I’ll be safe here?” Stiles knows that any act of violence is forbidden within the small lines of the Religion territory, but all rules seem to be out the fucking window at this point.

“Nobody’s going to attack a church, Stiles.” James assures him. 

The sentence had barely left his mouth before the church doors were being swung open and the sound of gun fire filled the big, open room.

Stiles takes cover immediately, but he’s vaguely aware of a bullet in his right shoulder. He can’t feel it yet, but he knows it’s there, can feel the warmth of his blood spreading through his t-shirt. He glances around frantically looking for any sign of his friends. He sees Scott, who’s clutching his side, blood already staining most of his shirt, though it’s barely noticeable in the already blood-red color of the uniform. 

There’s no sign of James so Stiles stupidly crawls towards the next pew. He can barely hear Scott telling him to stop over the sound of guns going off. He’s hit in the head with something hard, but he’s still alive so it’s definitely not a bullet. His eyes tear up immediately and he’s somehow able to piece together that it’s a cannister of tear gas. 

He throws it blindly and hears glass break. People start yelling to throw the cannisters out the windows and doors, anything to get them out of the church. The sound of glass shattering combined with the still-constant gun fire is enough to send Stiles into a full on panic attack. Scott somehow finds his way over to him, or did Stiles crawl there himself? His body is on auto pilot as he struggles to breathe. 

His vision starts to fade, his eyes falling in and out of focus on the church ceiling; the angelic artwork swirling together. He figures there are worse views to die looking at, more so when a familiar face obscures his view of the ceiling. 

“Derek?” Before Stiles can form a smile, he recognizes the achingly familiar attire. The blood red uniform of the Uprisers. 

“Please.” He whimpers, the final bit of adrenaline leaving his body. The pain in his shoulder is excruciating, his eyes burn, and all of the exhaustion of the last few hours hits him all at once. The last thing he sees is Derek throwing a cannister of tear gas that had rolled near him and the last thing he registers is someone gently caressing his cheek before he blacks out.


	2. There's No Antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up days later in a makeshift medical tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I wasn't going to make you wait for an update.

Stiles wakes up days later in a makeshift medical tent. He has no idea where he is, but he’s instantly calmed at the sight of Scott sitting next to him. He’s shirtless, and his entire torso is bandaged. Stiles looks down to see he’s also shirtless, his shoulder bandaged, and cuts all down his arm that are still shiny with ointment. 

Scott notices him stirring immediately. “Thank God you’re finally awake, I was bored as fuck the last four days.”

Four days. Shit. 

“What?” Is all Stiles can manage.

“I didn’t get the luxury of passing out so I made sure they kept us in the same tent.” 

“What happened?”

“Apparently a good majority of the Uprisers were actually not Uprisers.”

Stiles doesn’t have the energy to tell Scott to keep going. Thankfully, he does it anyway. 

“All that gunfire in the church was the real Uprisers firing at the fake Uprisers. But the fake Uprisers won and snuffed out the whole thing before it could make it past Warrior territory. I mean, I get why they started there; the weapons and all. But I can’t imagine how they thought it made sense to attack the only people actually trained in combat, first. I mean, how stupid do you-”

“Scott.” 

“What?”

“Is this what it feels like to be friends with me? Because holy fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Scott laughs and Stiles feels all the tension leave his body at the sound.

They’re silent for a few minutes as Stiles struggles to fully sit up in his cot. He can’t put any weight on his right arm.

“Where is…” Stiles can’t even bring himself to finish asking the question. He already knows the answer. He knows Scott would have kept them all together if he was injured. And he knows he’d be sitting right next to his bed if he wasn’t.

“James is…” Scott starts. “He didn’t make it. When the gun fire started going off, he tried to wrestle a gun away from someone who was aiming right at Lydia. She said he-” Scott cuts himself off with a choked sound. “Lydia said he wanted you to know that he loved you and that it was okay.”

“What was okay?” Stiles’ voice is as monotone as ever.

Scott looks at him pointedly.

“No.” Stiles feels the tears pricking at his eyes. “No, there’s no way he...How would he have...No.”

“Stiles, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” Stiles yells, causing Scott to flinch. His throat is raw, his voice breaking on the last word.

“He knew, and he loved you, and he died knowing that you loved him, despite everything.”

Stiles cries, and he doesn’t stop until someone comes in and gives him a sedative; and even then he dreams of laying in his bed back home and crying. Only in his dreams, James is there to comfort him.

In the days after the war, Stiles pieces things together. Like Scott said, the Uprisers didn’t make it past Warrior territory. The “Fake Uprisers” planned to cut them off at the church, but some of the actual Uprisers weren’t as dumb as they looked. The battle lasted only a few hours, and then everyone was transported to the nearby medical tents. 

Apparently their goal was to get rid of the factions, and have everyone live the way they used to. It was good in theory, but poor in planning and execution. Their motivation was the fact that so many people were separated from their families, with no way to see them without work ordered traveling papers. 

Although the casualty count was small, the message was severe enough that the Capital lifted the need for traveling papers. People could come and go as they pleased and the territories existed solely for the purpose of knowing where to go to get what you needed.

They eventually make it back home, him and Scott, at least. Jackson and Lydia decide to head north, but they promise to visit soon, if only to collect the remainder of their stuff. Stiles snorts at the fact that even after two apocalypses, Lydia still won’t part with her clothes.

The first thing Stiles does is sleep. He sleeps for two days, only waking up for Scott to force feed him some soup. On the third day, he cries. Scott doesn’t force him to eat that day. 

On the fourth day, a stray named Allison appears. She tells them that she came from Harvester territory, that her whole family abandoned her when she refused to join the Uprising. 

The mention of Harvester’s spikes Stiles’ heartbeat, but he quickly pushes it aside; his guilt not letting him think about the memories that have returned to him. Memories of himself being carried by a certain man in a blood red uniform, begging him to stay awake. Memories he’s not sure are real considering no such person had visited him at the medical tent. He’s not even sure if Der -  _ the man  _ \- is still alive. 

Part of him knows that he is, can feel it. But part of him doesn’t want him to be. Doesn’t want to think about the uniform, or what side he was on. Or why he only barely hinted at what was to come, instead of telling him outright. 

Stiles almost left James, the person who was literally building them a life together, for someone who couldn’t - no -  _ didn’t _ warn him about an uprising coming for the very territory he lived in. 

It’s on day eight that Stiles starts to go through what’s left of James’ stuff. He’s putting away some old shirts when a piece of paper catches his eye. He knows what it is the second he sees it tucked into the sleeve of his favorite sweater.

_ Stiles, _

_ If you’re reading this, then that probably means that some part of Jackson’s plan went horribly wrong. Or, we’re reading this together and you’re making fun of me for being a sap. I really hope it’s the latter.  _

_ I want you to know that I love you, even if it’s not the same way that you love me. I know you were planning on leaving. Not just me, but all of us, and I don’t blame you for it. I know what it’s like to lose your soulmate. I never told you, but right before they shipped me out, I was in a relationship with someone I knew was the other piece of my soul. He was the real reason I didn’t want my name on traveling papers, not my dad. I knew that he was brought to the Capital. His mom was high up on the political food chain and I knew there was no way she would let him end up anywhere else. I didn’t want him to be able to find me, because I knew it would destroy me if he didn’t. I loved you with every piece of my heart that didn’t already belong to him. You were the best thing that could have happened to me, and I want to thank you for loving me. If I’m not there reading this with you, or even if I am, I want you to know that I forgive you. Even if you never actually planned on going, even if you only thought about it for a second. I forgive you. You deserve every bit of happiness that you can get. I love you, forever and always. _

_ James _

  
  


Stiles folds the note back up carefully and places it back in the sweater. He’s vaguely aware that he’s crying, but he can’t feel anything. He feels nothing but the hole in his heart where James used to be. He cries, because there’s nothing left for him to do but cry.

Eventually he stops crying, though. Eventually he helps Scott and Allison fix up the house. They add the small house that James was building as an extension. Stiles insists that him and Allison live there, if only so he can stop listening to the sound of them giggling into each others mouths every night. Eventually everything goes back to normal.

***

It’s been a year and the Uprising is a distant memory. Okay, not really. He’s not sure he’ll ever forget the worst 24 hours of his life. But he doesn’t think about it constantly anymore, and that’s a start. 

Stiles traveled from one end of the continent to the other, picking up work along the way. It turns out he’s not that great at building things, but he’s pretty awesome at fixing things. 

Scott and Allison still haven’t moved, so Stiles always has a bed waiting for him when he returns. There’s always new people living there when he comes back, it’s become a nice surprise every time he stops by. He loves hearing about where they came from and what they used to do, and what they do now. He loves sharing  _ his  _ stories with Scott and Allison and whoever else is living with them.

He thinks he should be surprised to find Derek sitting on the porch the day he comes home from a particularly long trip. But, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s been expecting it for a while. 

The house is suspiciously empty, which he only notices after wordlessly stomping past Derek into the house. 

Derek doesn’t follow, and when Stiles peeks outside an hour later, the man is gone.

Scott and Allison return shortly after, they eye him carefully but don’t say anything.

He knows what’s coming when Scott announces loudly, to no one in particular, that him and Allison are going on a food run. There’s a knock on his bedroom door not a moment later.

“Come in.” Stiles says, forcing a neutral tone. He’s pretty sure his heart is about to give out.

“Stiles” Derek’s voice barely registers.

Stiles doesn’t turn around to face him. Can’t turn around. He focuses on unfolding and refolding the same pair of pants.

“Stiles, I-”

“Let me guess.” His voice is sharp, too harsh in the quiet room. “You’re sorry? Sorry that you didn’t tell me about what was happening, sorry that you let me go home every week knowing what was coming for us, sorry that you didn’t get to the church sooner? Did I miss anything? Oh, yeah.” Stiles laughs maniacally. “Sorry that my boyfriend is dead?” His voice breaks on the last word. “Does that about cover it?”

He looks at Derek for the first time in over a year. He looks the same, but somehow better. Stiles can’t think about that right now, maybe ever.

“I’m sorry for all of that, yes. Especially J-”

“Don’t.”

“I wanted to warn you, you have to know how badly I wanted to warn you. But the people behind it, they were  _ everywhere. _ And they were already suspicious of me. I wanted you to live with me so I could protect you, so they would trust you, so they wouldn’t hurt you. I had plans to get us out of there, farther than they ever would have made it. I even packed extra things for Scott and -” He stops.

“I ran into James on my way to the church.” Derek’s voice is impossibly soft. Stiles turns around and they lock eyes. “He told me where you were, what you were wearing so I could find you. He told me to make sure I got you out of there. And I did. I carried you for 2 miles to the medical tent. Scott came in right after you, he was in bad shape. I went back for James, but it was too late. Lydia stayed with him, thought. He didn’t die alone.” Derek takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t face you, knowing what you probably thought of me, knowing that he was gone. I know what he meant to you.” Tears fall freely down Derek’s face. He has to physically stop himself from reaching out to brush them away.

“I don’t forgive you.” Stiles breaks the silence. 

Derek nods once and gets up to leave.

“Not yet.” Stiles continues. Derek is standing there, in front of him, his eyes red and tired, but full of hope. “But if you stay, I think I could.”

***

It takes a long time, but they both start to heal. Themselves and each other. Scott and Allison welcome Derek with opens arms. They never admit to conspiring against him, but he knows Scott was probably the one to track him down and yell at him for not showing up sooner.

Allison gives birth to a baby boy in the early Spring. They name him Christopher, after Allison’s father. Scott suggests the middle name James. Stiles doesn’t cry.

Two years after Derek officially moves in, Erica, Boyd, and Issac show up. The eight of them live together, with Derek and Scott building yet another extension on the house. Lydia and Jackson stop by at least once every season, Lydia gushing over what she’s missed and Jackson pretending not to be just as interested. 

Eventually, the apocalypse feels a lot less like the end of the world, and more like a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE ME SOME LOVE IM SORRY

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Please leave comments and kudos and tell me u love me


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